Together We Will Heal
by GoDownWithThisShip
Summary: Meredith turns out to be the Mystic Falls Serial Killer and murders Elena. Damon, who feels extremely alone turns to Alaric for support.
1. Everything Falls Apart

He stood rooted to the gowned. The sight before him caused an uncomfortable chill to grow in his stomach. As he read the names engraved on the tombstone the chill made its way up to his throat and then attempted to break free from his body in the form of tears. He had met her a little more than a year earlier in this exact spot. She had been sitting on the ground scribbling in her journal. She was weaker then. He had promised to protect her. How could he fail at such a simple task? He kneeled to place the flowers he had collected from a nearby field on the grave. The flowers from the funeral were still draped over the tombstone and scatter over the grave as well. Someone had left a sign as well, _WE MISS YOU ELENA._

No you don't, he thought, you have no idea what missing someone feels like. He turned to find Alaric standing awkwardly behind him holding a small bouquet. They stood for a moment in silence, their gazes locked. Finally Alaric spoke, "How are you Damon?"

A small muscle in Damon's jaw clenched, "I'm fine, Ric. How are you doing?"

Ric simply nodded, "I know you're kind of on your own right now, and loss is a difficult thing to deal with-"

"I'm fine, **Ric." **Damon repeated in an irritated tone. He walked past his friend their shoulders colliding. Damon was unaffected and continued on to the exit. Ric lingered there for a few seconds massaging his shoulder and watching Damon leave. When he was out of sight, Ric turned his attention back to the grave and lightly dropped his flowers in front of it. He didn't want to let on how hurt he truly was. Meredith had deceived him, but he could not bring himself to hate her. She was probably sitting in her prison cell right now, but he doubted that she was thinking of him as he was thinking of her. He couldn't help but feel guilty. Elena had suspected Meredith ever since the murders began. He had been to blind to listen. He whispered a quick apology under his breath before the tears arrived. He quickly walked back to his car wiping stray tears from the corners of his eyes.

x~x~x~x

Damon could not recall a time where he was more relieved to be home. He threw open the door, stripped off his leather jacket and cast it aside. He went straight for the parlor, there was one thing he needed right now and that was a drink. A small white envelope was tucked in between the bottle of Scotch and the numerous glasses. He plucked it from it's niche and tore it open.

_Damon,_

_My brother, I packed up my things while you were away. By the time you read this I will be gone. Don't bother trying to find me. I won't come back. There's nothing besides painful memories and grief left in Mystic Falls. I left for my mental and emotional health. I'm convinced you'll be fine. You'll survive Damon. You always do. You've always been the strong one. _

_ Best of luck,_

_ Stefan_

Damon stared at the note for a second before angrily tearing it to shreds and throwing the pieces angrily away. They scattered about the parlor like snow. He used an arm to knock the glasses and liquor from the table in front of him. He then lifted the table and threw it across the room where it shattered and sent splinters flying. He leapt over to the wreckage and salvaged a pointed plank of wood and his reflexes took over. He impaled himself. The fact that he did not die instantly was a strong indicator that he missed his heart. His sudden feeling of weakness was an indicator that he had not missed by much. He collapsed onto his back.

He watched dust swirling in the light filtering in through one of the large windows. For once Damon Salvatore knew what it meant to be completely alone


	2. Help Arrives

Alaric knew something was up. The bar was particularly lonely this afternoon at the Mystic Grill. He picked up his second glass of Scotch and rotated his wrist, sloshing the liquid and ice cubes around in the glass. He took a quick sip. The alcohol slipped down his throat, stinging a bit, but the feeling of warmth that radiated from his esophagus was worth it. The bartender came over, "Where's your friend?" she casually asked. Alaric shrugged.

"I'm so used to seeing you two sitting at my bar and making asses of yourself when you get too tipsy. Bring him back next time you come. You look like you could use a pick-me-up like that," she said and walked away to tend to some dirty glasses. A tugged weakly at the corners of his mouth. She was right. Getting drunk alone in the middle of the day was not something he needed to do right now. He needed to talk to someone who would understand. With Meredith and Elena gone he really didn't have anyone to talk to right now.

_Except Damon, _he thought. He doubted Damon would want to talk to anyone right now, but even getting drunk at the Salvatore mansion would be an improvement. He got up, paused to let the room steady itself, and left the Grill.

x~x~x~x

Damon's limbs felt a lot heavier than they should have. _Shit, _he thought looking down at the wooden plank sticking out of his chest. _I have got to be the dumbest piece of-_

His acute sense of hearing picked up the sound of the front door opening. Footsteps were approaching from the hall.

"STEFAN?" Damon shouted by mustering all of his strength.

"Damon?" a familiar voice responded. Alaric stepped into the parlor, his expression turned immediately to one of shock.

"Damon what the hell happened to you?" Alaric rushed over.

"I had a bit of an accident," Damon said weakly, "Nothing major."

"You did this?" Alaric was flabbergasted.

"I just tripped and fell and-"

"Impaled yourself with a stake?" Alaric finished.

"Yeah. Pretty much sums it up."

Alaric kneeled next to Damon and gripped the wood firmly with both hands. Damon groaned and his head lulled back. With one yank, the wood was freed from Damon's body and he let out a sigh. "Can you do me a favor?" he asked.

"What do you need?" Alaric asked.

"Blood bag." Damon choked. He weakly lifted a hand to his chest. When he pulled his hand away it was drenched in blood. Alaric left the room to retrieve Damon's snack. Slowly Damon recovered the strength to sit up. He sat against the wall and looked down at his bloodied button down shirt. He internally cursed himself. It was his favorite and had been significantly more expensive than his others. He might be able to rinse the blood out, but he couldn't repair the gaping hole. Alaric returned with the blood bag and Damon had enough strength to stand up and take it.

"Feel free to help yourself to a drink," Damon said motioning toward the shattered liquor bottles and glasses on the floor.

Alaric snorted, "Thanks for the offer, I'll pass."

"Well now that technicalities are out of the way, what the hell are you doing in my house?" Damon asked between sips from the blood bag.

Alaric suddenly couldn't look Damon in the eye. His gaze began to drift about the somewhat demolished parlor.

"You don't even know what you're doing here. Okay, well you showed yourself in. You can show yourself out," Damon turned to leave.

"I don't have anyone right now okay? I just figured that I'd come over and see how you're doing. I thought maybe you'd want to talk or get a drink or something," Alaric sputtered.

Damon paused at the door and turned around. "Any other day Alaric I would have told you to go screw yourself, but I'm feeling particularly generous today so I will grace you with my presence."

They both headed to the door and Damon stooped down to collect his discarded jacket on his way out


	3. Almost Like Old Times

"Shit," Damon stopped suddenly and Alaric turned to face him. They had barely made it out of the front door.

"What's wrong?" Alaric asked.

"I'll be right back," Damon turned while unbuttoning his ruined shirt. He walked away peeling it off his back as he went. He spend upstairs, grabbed a new one from his drawers, and rejoined Alaric at the front door. "Okay, let's go," he said buttoning the remaining buttons on his fresh shirt. Alaric was surprised. He had never seen Damon without a shirt on, but the guy was in pretty damn good shape. He had perfectly chiseled back and abdominal muscles.

"Coming?" Damon interrupted Alaric's thoughts impatiently.

x~x~x~x

They were sitting at a table in an out-of-the-way corner at the Grill. Damon was sucking down his third glass of Bourbon. Alaric was still on his second glass of Scotch. They had drank in an understanding silence for about twenty minutes.

Damon was the one who spoke first. "Ric, according to my calculations, you're the only friend I have left," he slurred. The liquor had dissolved Damon's abrasive emotional wall, Alaric noted.

"That's not true. You still have Stefan," he pointed out.

Damon scoffed and downed the rest of his Bourbon, "He skipped town after the funeral. You know, with all that bullshit he fed me about brotherhood, he's not really following through."

"Damon he's just hurting right now. We all are. He's just dealing with it in his own way. He'll be back for you Damon. He loves you," Alaric said soothingly.

"Bullshit. Everything was about Elena. Now that she's gone there's no reason for him to stay." Damon could feel that familiar chill rising in his throat and he swallowed it. He looked down and studied the intricate pattern on the table cloth. He traced it with the tip of his index finger.

Alaric instinctively reached out and grasped Damon's arm, "Hey, at least you've got me right?" he said being only half serious. Damon's rigid emotional wall would rise soon again and he would tell Alaric to get the hell off. To Alaric's surprise Damon nodded.

"I hate apologies Ric, but I'm just really lost right now and I was a dick earlier."

"Damon. You're always a dick," Ric burst into a buzzed fit of laughter and Damon followed suit.

His mind was lost in an alcoholic haze but laughter was just as refreshing as rain in the desert. Damon could fill the chill retreating into the dark corners of his body. Maybe healing wasn't impossible. At least he didn't have to do it alone. _Everyone, so far, has left me. Why would Ric be any different?_

"I think I've had enough for one night. What about you Damon?"

Damon nodded slowly, "I got the bill Ric."

They stood up, paid for their drinks and left.

x~x~x~x~x

Damon sat behind the wheel of Alaric's car. Even though he had much more to drink, he could still focus a lot better than Ric could at the moment.

"Damon, do you think I have a drinking problem?" Ric mumbled.

Damon scoffed, "No you're just a man who enjoys drowning in sorrows in a good glass of alcohol. Noting wrong with that."

Ric snorted, "Are you going to drop me off at my place?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Damon, I have a bunch of Elena and Meredith's stuff there and I don't really want to deal with it tonight. Besides the apartment is too quiet right now. I also don't really know if I can get up the stairs at this point," Ric explained.

"If you wanted to have a sleep over you could have just asked," Damon teased.

Alaric rolled his eyes and turned to look out the window


	4. I need you

Damon rolled over and at first he had no idea where he was. He sat up quickly and his eyes scanned the room quickly. The room was familiar. It was his own. _Boring, _he thought irritably and swung his legs over the side of his bed. He walked over to the bathroom and slipped into the shower.

Alaric awoke to find that his stomach felt like an empty pit. His head also felt like it was stuck in a vice and with every movement the vice was tightened. What he needed was bacon and an aspirin. He carefully sat up. It felt like an earthquake was rumbling behind his temples. He rubbed his eyes gently and stopped suddenly. _Where the hell am I? _He looked around and with a start he realized that he was in the Salvatore's living room. He rubbed his neck, sleeping on furniture that was hundreds of years old wasn't easy on the body. He tried to remember what happened last night but his memory was irritatingly foggy. He decided to find Damon, and if he was awake he'd ask him for an aspirin. _Or maybe he'd like to go get something to eat, _Alaric mused. He was suddenly taken back to his college days, staying out late and waking up to go grab a hearty breakfast the next morning. He got up off the couch and went upstairs to find his comrade.

Damon stepped out of the shower, dried off, and wrapped the towel around his waist. He stepped out of the bathroom and his heart gave a start to see Alaric in his bedroom gazing around like a sight seer in Paris. Damon internally groaned, he hadn't heard Alaric because of the running water of the shower.

"It's not very often that someone sneaks up on me," he said smirking and leaning against the door frame.

Alaric gave a start, turned his attention to Damon, and immediately looked away. "Damon what the hell are you doing?" Alaric said.

"I could ask you the same thing," Damon purred.

"Well I just-I just need an aspirin! Damn it Damon. Will you put some clothes on for Christ sake?"

Damon pouted, "Well if that's what you want-" he began to unwrap the towel.

Alaric watched for a second and then turned to go. His feet carried him down the hall, down the stairs, and right out the front door. He just kept walking. He had no idea where he was going but he was confused, hung over, and in pain.

Damon stood at his window watching Alaric stroll off down the lane. He felt the cold feeling grip his chest again and he crossed his arms over it in a feeble attempt to keep the feeling at bay. He felt completely alone, and he didn't like it.

x~x~x~x~x

Alalric took a swig of coffee while he waited for the waitress to return with his food. He thought back to the incident at the Salvatore mansion. Why was he so uncomfortable with the naked male form? He recalled high school where he was too nervous to even change in the locker room. He always went a little earlier than he needed to in order to change in the bathroom before the other guys got there.

The waitress returned and put the plate of bacon and eggs down in front of him and left. He picked up his fork and weakly stabbed the eggs. He had suddenly lost his appetite. The emptiness that he felt right now had nothing to do with hunger. He rested his chin in his free hand. He thought about Isobel. He thought about Jenna. He thought about Meredith. Why was it that he lost every women that he held dear? What he wanted, _no, what he needed, _was someone who wasn't going to leave him, die on him, or turn out to be a psychotic serial killer.

_But I don't know anyone who's immortal, obsessive, and-_

_Damon._

But Damon was a psychotic serial killer he corrected himself. _But he didn't lie about it and try to hide it. _Alaric began to peck at his food. _Why am I even thinking about him?_

_ x~x~x~x~x_

Damon laid on his back staring at the ceiling. The parlor was painfully silent and his thoughts filled the void perfectly. After all this time the only person to truly stick by him was Alaric, and right now he wasn't sure what Alaric wanted. Whatever it was, Damon didn't care. As long as he had his friendship for as long as possible.

The sound of a car pulling up interrupted his thoughts. He sat up and made his way to the door. There was a knock at it and he rushed over and threw it open. Alaric stood on his doorstep looking down at his feet. He looked up at Damon, his eyes were shining with what Damon assumed to be tears.

"Alaric, I-" Damon was going to explain that he was only joking around earlier when he had upset him.

Alaric interrupted him by pulling Damon into a tight hug. Damon hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around Alaric. "Um, hello to you to?" he said uneasily.

"Damon this is going to sound bat shit crazy, but I need you," Alaric whispered


End file.
